


Far From Any Road

by Dan_Francisco



Series: Trilogy of Tragedy [2]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Action/Adventure, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drama, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lost Memories, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-06-09 23:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19486492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dan_Francisco/pseuds/Dan_Francisco
Summary: All she had was coordinates, and a message. “Courier Six – Ulysses”Whatever, whoever, is waiting for Suka at the Divide, a place a lifetime ago full of old memories long since forgotten. Who is this Ulysses, and what does he want with her?





	1. Blue-Eyed Cossack Girl

It was night by the time Suka approached the final leg of her trip in the Mojave, reaching the canyon wreckage the coordinates had brought her to. She remembered this road. Years ago, before she had ever taken on House's job, she walked this road. It was familiar, and unfamiliar all the same. Being shot must have dropped the memory from her mind. That is to say, she remembered being here. She remembered walking this road. She had a vague memory as to what she had done here.

What she didn't know was why the hell Ulysses, whoever he was, wanted her here.

Suka dropped her rucksack by her feet, opening the top one more time to ensure she had everything she needed. Medical supplies were in the left-side compartment. Ammunition and spare magazines on the right. Enough food and clean water for several days, longer if needed. Supplies to purify water. She knew places to find more, either way. A familiar passage had been ruined by new wreckage, and graffiti dotted the abandoned buses that formed the barrier to her progress. Scribbles of “Lonesome Road,” “The Divide,” an ominous warning that Suka could just go home, and pointless questions about Courier Six.

She lifted the rucksack onto her back, readjusting for the weight of it as she took her Kalashnikov in her hands. Suka might have to sling it soon – if this road was as treacherous as she remembered it being, she'd need both hands to climb over and under objects. Shit, the rucksack might cause issues too. Just another annoyance.

Either way, Suka knew the road ahead. She stepped through the rusty old bus, taking the first steps towards the Divide.

* * *

Suka reached her destination three days later, approaching an overlook she recognized. Somewhat. The air was thick with tension – tension over what, Suka didn't know. On her left, there was an abandoned wooden construct, looking like part of a wall, with a symbol she struggled to recognize. _Wait, right,_ she thought. _The American flag._ The canyon walls were narrow, with all sorts of junk strewn about it as if nobody had ever cared about this place or its purpose. Rusted out old cars lay against the canyon, chunks of metal that once had a purpose were half-buried in the ground, and the twisted skeletons of demolished buildings stood out in stark contrast to the dreary brown background she saw ahead of her.

Off in the distance, maybe about a kilometer by Suka's estimation, she saw a light. It emanated with an eerie red glow, fading and coming back to brilliance. What was it? Maybe a tower of some kind? She didn't know. As she approached the cliff's edge, she saw it wasn't just one light – it was a whole series of them, lighting an uncertain path. This wasn't the route she knew. Suka had never been here before.

Time to keep moving on. Staying here couldn't be good. Suka moved over and under rocks, barely-balanced trusses of structural metal, and along the narrow path ahead of her until she reached a concrete wall. _Hopeville Ballistic Defense Station_ , said the plaque on the wall, with the same flag crudely painted on it. There were more words below it – authorized something only? She didn't understand the word. Suka looked out to the valley below her, staring at the ruins of what must have once been a city. This strange Ulysses had brought her here for some reason. He _wanted_ her to see this.

Suka sighed, opening the door in front of her to the station. The sandy air was getting to her anyway.

* * *

The interior of the base – or station, or whatever you wanted to call it – crackled with electricity. Wires hung loosely from the ceiling, and more graffiti directed towards Suka was on the wall. Another message of “You can go home, Courier.” It didn't make sense to Suka. He _wanted_ her here. So why was he telling her she could go home? Suka would have to have a talk with him, if she ever found Ulysses face to face.

Even with the electricity, though, it was too dark for her to properly see. She turned on her Pip-Boy light, illuminating the underground facility with a white glow. As she neared the bottom of the entrance tunnel, the door opened, and involuntarily, Suka raised her rifle and crouched down, prepared to fight in case someone was on the other side.

But, nothing. The next room was empty. Just more arcing electricity and a row of computers, all useless. Suka still cleared the room anyway, searching for any hidden foes. Finding none, she found a control panel that looked promising. There was writing on it, _Si-lo?_ Silo. Right. These were controls for something, but the encryption was unfamiliar to her. She couldn't spend time trying to figure this out.

Two doors were on her flanks. One led to the… _reactor_ and the other… right, _utility._ She hated how unfamiliar these words were. Why couldn't all places work like her vault, where Russian was so kindly provided for her? There was a standard RobCo computer, this one she could handle, next to the utility door. But, it wasn't unlocked. In fact, the logs showed any security measures this place had were inactive. But why?

Suka shook her head, ignoring the question. It was not her job to understand this place. Ulysses wanted to see her, well, see her he would. The door brought her to a small room, full of recharging stations for the ball robots she had seen occasionally. All were empty except one. Another computer, meant for unlocking a prototype of some kind. Maybe it was the ball robot inside it? Notes about the… _fuck, I know this word, but not in English,_ Suka thought. _Intendant_ system. The system used things like bottle caps? Good, that would cut down on problems for her. Either way, she opened up the prototypical robot, watching it come to life in front of her. Maybe this thing could help her.

It played music, for… some reason, as it floated. “Ralphie,” it said in a child's voice, “fly far, fly fast!” More beeping.

“What was that noise?” Suka asked, irritated by the off-pitch beeping. “Glitch?”

It beeped again, almost as if it were… confused? Could a robot be confused?

“Not boot sequence,” Suka said, trying to diagnose the issue. “Recording. About a Ralphie.”

The thing beeped, sounding evasive. This robot was pissing her off.

“Bah. Whatever,” Suka said. “Must be old memory floating around. It does not sound like an issue.”

The annoying little thing kept beeping, more and more excited with the passing second. _God_ , it was annoying.

“Alright, listen, robot,” Suka said. “I own you now. Follow me and make yourself useful, _yes?_ ”

It beeped, and then began playing another audio log. This wasn't the child from before – it was a man's voice, reciting some kind of notes for a log, talking about a Duraframe. A Dr. Whitley. He talked of science, words Suka couldn't understand, but she heard “success” and “full rollout” within his words. Something about security panels. Maybe this robot would be useful after all.

“Robot,” Suka said, “are you saying you can override security?”

It kept beeping. Didn't it know Suka couldn't understand this fucking thing?

“Maybe you _will_ be useful to me then, robot,” Suka replied. “Let us keep moving.”

Together, the two headed back into the main room where Suka had found the console that looked promising. The robot zapped it with electricity once, and the lever rose up as lights on the console began to glisten. Suka threw the lever, activating what must have been electricity for the place, and doors in front of the console began to open up. A long, metal tube… wait, no, this was an MBR in front of her. This was a missile silo. Why had Ulysses brought her here? On the MBR's side, she could see the American flag painted on it, with little ball robots working around it, welding the thing to seal holes.

Suka blinked, stepping away from the window. She had to get away from this. Into the reactor room. Her walk through here brought her up a floor, beyond a destroyed staircase, all the while the stupid robot kept playing audio logs from the past. These people were _dead._ It didn't matter. Why did it keep interrupting her with these stupid things? Suka walked up another flight of stairs, past ruined and destitute rooms into a place called Storage, with… a dead man, clad in bizarre, hobbled-together junk armor, his skin red with no hair. Actually, no, he _had_ no skin. He had been flayed alive, his raw muscles exposed to the world.

Suka searched his pockets, trying to understand. He wasn't a ghoul. She found Legion coin on him, but he wasn't in Legion armor. This was armor the NCR was more likely to wear. What was going on? This didn't make any sense. Who had pinned him to the wall like this? Another one was nearby, slumped against an overturned cabinet. He too had junk armor, cobbled together from approximately “whatever the fuck could be found lying around”, she assumed. This one had armor more similar to the Legion, and he too held Legion coin. What had happened here?

Suka stepped out of the room, heading into the silo again only to be greeted by rocket fire. Her Pip-Boy clicked – this place was radioactive. Somebody was shooting rockets at her. Well, this demanded a response. She raised her Kalashnikov's sights up to her face, returning fire. _Oh, dammit,_ she thought. _Another fucking sentry bot._ How stupid of her to assume there would actually be _people_ here. She emptied the magazine into the dumb robot, and it collapsed, destroyed.

She checked her magazine, putting the empty one away for future reloading and placing a fresh one into her weapon. Suka checked the room behind the sentry bot, which held an old ghoul clad in a uniform of some kind. Oh, wait, obviously, an American. Looked important – maybe an officer of some kind. Suka rummaged through his desk, looking for anything interesting. She found a holodisk – security protocols. These could be useful.

The robot beeped, heading out of the officer's quarters and heading to another room. This one had another one of these strange men with no skin, on top of a cabinet with a destroyed sentry bot nearby. Another terminal – maybe these codes were useful for that. The robot headed to the terminal, unlocking it for Suka to use. The lights came on, radiating a red glow to signal power was back on.

Suka threw the switch, and before she knew it, five sentry bots appeared, and the turrets she thought had been deactivated came to life, each one throwing lasers, rockets, and 5mm rounds towards her. She fought hard, her mind becoming a blur as she dodged bullets and rockets, taking out sentry bot after sentry bot that followed her like a conga line. Once the bots had been destroyed, she set to work destroying the turrets. It was an excellent system – each one had cover on the other if she ventured too far in, and thus she had to methodically eliminate each one in turn.

Suka looked down at herself after the final turret was destroyed. Something hurt. She had burns on her arms from the laser fire. Something was wrong with her leg. She lifted her left arm up – a nice, clean bullet hole had appeared, and was bleeding. _Fuck._ She didn't have time for this. Sighing, Suka took a seat on one of the nearby dusty old chairs, tossing her bag to her right side. Time to perform a little triage.

She examined the bullet wound first. It had gone right through her arm, Must not have hit a vital artery, otherwise she'd probably be dead by now. She didn't see a bullet, so that was good, at least. Suka pulled out some vodka she had taken with her, popping off the cap and pouring it over her skin, wincing in pain as the alcohol burned her. Bandaging came next. No time for anything more complicated. She wrapped the bandage tight around her arm, watching blood already seep through it. She'd have to fix this when she got to New Vegas.

Leg next. Suka rolled up her pant leg, trying to find the source of her pain. Nothing. Something was obviously wrong, but what? She didn't see any wounds. No shrapnel. Maybe she had just hit her leg on something. Time to self-medicate. Med-X it is. Suka injected the drug right into her leg, hoping throwing it there would make relief come faster. Suka rolled down her pant leg again, eager to keep moving. More dead men lined the walls. They must have been in here at one point, but for what purpose? And why was everything locked if they had already been here?

That fucking alarm blared in her head as she moved out of the bunker. Suka opened the final bunker door to the outside, welcomed by the dusty air again and a strange noise coming from the robot.

“Taking your chances coming here… _Suka,”_ a man said through the robot, his voice deep and smooth.

“Who are you?” Suka demanded.

“Hard _not_ to hear about you. The Terror of the Mojave. New Vegas's dictator. Your name is synonymous with a new wave of authoritarianism that makes even Caesar blush.”

Suka narrowed her eyes, even though she was sure this man couldn't see her. “You are Ulysses, yes? You are the one who sent the radio message? What do you want?”

“Want…“ he said, as if he were in a fog. “What I _want_ is irrelevant. America sleeps ahead of you, its nightmares filled with quakes, storms. You're resourceful – that _machine,_ robot with you, can help you find the warheads you need to open the path… and their trigger, the detonator. The way ahead is below. The tools are there. The rest – is up to you.”

“ _You are_ _not making sense,”_ Suka warned. “Answer me. Are you Ulysses?”

“Not my given name,” he answered. “Close enough. I'm a Courier. Courier Six… _was_ Courier Six. Like you, and _not_ like you, in all the ways that matter. Spent too many years looking for you – now, letting _you_ come to _me.”_

“You want to see me?” Suka asked, feeling her cheeks flush in anger. “Then we will have a talk, yes? One where my _bullet_ goes through _your head!”_

“You can't kill me,” he said, almost despondently. “Just like I couldn't kill you. Not without one of us answering for it. You came all this way for that – answers. Only currency I have. Nothing else to be gained – could turn around, walk away at any time. The Divide will send its worst against you. Left marks for you, colors'll guide the way… _if_ you're smart. They'll lead you to your home one more time, lead to the ending of it – maybe remind you why you wander, Suka.”

With nothing further, he cut off the transmission, and the robot returned to normal. What was he talking about? This was never Suka's home. That had been Vault 18, and then the Lucky 38. The more she thought about it, the more pissed off she got. He had dared her to come here, _thrown_ her into the silo full of dangers. He must have known, Suka reasoned as she tightened the grip on her rifle and gritted her teeth. As she headed down the rocky road to the abandoned, dead town before her, she couldn't help but feel her hatred growing with the passing second. Ulysses thought she was stupid? Well, she would show him.

Suka would walk this damned road, and kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MBR - Russian acronym for "mezhkontinental'naya ballisticheskaya raketa" - intercontinental ballistic missile


	2. Polyushka Pole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suka explores Hopeville.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update as I will be out of town during normal update days. Schedule will return to normal next week.

Suka looked out at the dead city before her, spotting ruined barracks, the same red hue she had seen elsewhere, and the twisted wrecks of skyscrapers now fully visible. The second she stepped down to enter the city itself, her Geiger counter began going off. _Goddammit,_ Suka thought. _Fucking radiation._ She popped a dose of Rad-X, scanning the area as she did so. Something was out there, she could tell. Magazine check – fully loaded. Good. If anything _was_ out there, she'd be ready. Suka headed down a lonely, broken road, flanked by the shells of vehicles long since disabled, heading over a culvert to enter a large, fenced area. On her left, there was light. Fire? Campground, maybe? But who would be insane enough to make camp here?

A series of flares fired at her confirmed that idea. The red-tinted flares lit up the night, and she could see clearly the red-skinned – or rather, _lacking-_ skin – men covered in NCR and Legion armor, with signs and random pieces of metal supplementing their degraded armor. The one firing the flares growled at her as she charged forward, lashing out with his fists at her. A short burst from the Kalashnikov put him down. There were others – she could hear them preparing weapons, making noise. It was as if they had no care in the world for their own well-being anymore. Suka emptied the magazine taking them out, two short bursts sending them to the ground.

She surveyed their camp. It was as makeshift as makeshift could be. No rationale behind it, no rhyme or reason. Junk was all over the place, vending machines turned over, all centered around this building and an outpost that the flare-firing one was using to observe. This building looked promising. Reloading her rifle, Suka prepared to breach and clear with the robot behind her.

Immediately upon entering, one of the red men charged at her with a flaming sword in his hand. Three solid shots to the chest killed him. On her left, another one ran in with a sniper rifle for some reason. Another burst, another one killed. She crouched, waiting for more targets to make themselves apparent. Nothing. This place was a _wreck._ Suka saw burned and ruined books all over, and marks on the walls told tales of the one with the sword taking his frustration out on them. Meat and bones were in small corners of the room. _Cannibals, too,_ Suka noted. Another crime to condemn them on. Time to loot. Not much in here that was useful – some ammo, a few tools that'd be useful for maintaining anything interesting she found here. Suka ventured back out into the abandoned town, ignoring most of the metal huts. They weren't any different from the ones she had found at Nellis, and besides, most were boarded up anyway. Why, she didn't know or particularly care. One of them had a terminal outside it – now _this_ was interesting. But, she couldn't unlock it. _Dammit._ The lock was too hard for her to pick, too. One more roadblock on top of another.

Whatever. It was getting dark. Suka would have to find shelter, soon, find time to rest. Two fights in the span of 12 hours had gotten to her. After all, she had to eat _sometime._ A building set on stilts would have to suffice for the evening. She could hear movement inside. There were…well, they weren't _people_ , per se. Not ghouls. What to call them? She'd figure it out later. All that mattered now was that they were going to die.

Another pair with those fire swords. A third with some kind of shotgun. She had half of her magazine left – she'd spend it fighting these idiots. The entire building was a two-room affair, with the other room being a bathroom. One of the beds had been converted to hold more meat and bones. Where did they even get this stuff from, anyway? It was a less-than-pleasant smell to have in her nose as she slept, but a bed in here was better than trying to shield herself from the elements outside. Besides, tomorrow, she could give this place a much more thorough search, figure out if there was anything useful in here.

Unable to lock the doors, Suka elected to string up the random cans and bottles she had found along the door, with the idea that anyone walking in would knock them over and give her an early warning. Not quite comfortable, Suka fell into an uneasy sleep, her Makarov right under her pillow. This forgotten place had more in store for her, she knew it. All she had to do was figure it out.

* * *

The morning sun flooded through the windows in the building. Suka checked her Pip-Boy – 0722 hours. Time to search this building more carefully. Lots of ammo, as she expected – it was clearly a military facility. Some old food. Was it still good? Probably not, best not to risk it. No ammo for her rifle though. Shame. Well, the American bullets would be useful for reloading brass anyway. Not much else of use here. Time to keep moving on.

The outside was even uglier than she remembered. The entire area had an orange hue cast over it, and a constant dust storm irritated her eyes as she pulled up her neck scarf to protect herself. Maybe she should invest in a helmet one of these days. No, better not – don't want the people of New Vegas to think she was afraid. Suka looked to her left first. A massive army truck and dozens of ruined cars blocked progress to this road. She didn't much feel like risking disease to climb over these things. The right had a fence. Maybe she could get through that way? No such luck here either. Another lock that was too difficult for her.

Wait, there was another hole farther down. She could get through there. Perfect. Suka walked around the wall, combing face to face with more of the damned ones. Did these fools have nothing but their swords? Wait, no, this one had a pistol. He went down first, his head exploding as the rifle round slammed into it. The other one was next, a three-round burst knocking him own before he could close in.

If Ulysses believed these damned ones were going to scare her, he was wrong. Suka would not be spooked so easily by madmen with primitive, poorly-maintained weapons. She continued on her way, glancing at the walls and broken rubble as she did. _Wait._ What was that? It…it was the same symbol she had seen outside the silo when she first entered. That one was blue, this one was red. Why red?

What was it that Ulysses had said? _“Symbols will guide the way?”_ Was that it? She scarcely remembered. _Whatever._ Not her problem right now. Suka headed down the main road, blocked yet again by these damned roadblocks. Well, no other way to go but to the right. More rads, but not much. Another fork in the road – this time splitting her path. To the right, another campground, the light from the fire she could see clearly. Ahead of her, another marking, this one in blue. _Fucking confusing,_ she thought to herself. Let's see where this went. It led to a small gate, with crates inside. Each crate had a white star on it. She had seen these on the army vehicles before. Must be the US Army symbol.

Each crate had some ammunition, like she expected. Nothing too surprising. In a corner, there was a bed, and a radio. Hidden away in a corner, she found a holodisk. Maybe it would be helpful. Suka played it, listening to Ulysses. _Stupid American,_ she thought, trying to parse the words as fast as they came. This wasn't the first one. She had found another one in the first building she explored. More words, pointless ones she didn't care about. Weird words about the Brotherhood of Steel and the Divide, a place called the Big Empty. Who cared about these places? Suka sure didn't. She shook her head as she put the audio logs away in her bag. _Pointless rambling._

The sandy air stung at her face. It was picking up in intensity – this wasn't good. More radiation too. Even worse. Was this entire place irradiated? At this rate, she'd be glowing by the time she got back home. Well, standing around here wouldn't get her anywhere. Suka circled back around, finding a lost path to get around the roadblock. She carefully slid down the cobbled concrete, making sure not to put too much shock on her wounds from the previous day. So far, so good. Another campground, by the looks of it. Chairs were scattered about, and the same meat remained on the ground. _Disgusting creatures,_ Suka thought.

As she stepped to head to the main road, the tell-tale sound of missiles came her way. Acting quickly, Suka dived behind some concrete, just narrowing missing taking a direct hit. Had to be up high. She would have seen them otherwise. Suka poked her head out for a split second to check positions, spotting a man standing on top of a roof. _There we go._ Suka sprinted to cover again, and the damned one started sending rockets to her old position. Time for her to reply. One, two, three shots, and down he went. She stepped out to the street, finding what could have been an otherwise nice main street. Buildings flanked both sides, prime spot for an ambush. Well, she had to investigate this position the damned one was at. Maybe she could get a vantage point from there.

Suka reached the top of the three-story structure, finding a rocket launcher and some scattered ammo around. A little device sat on a crate. Maybe this is what Ulysses was talking about. It looked important. May as well take it. Just as she did, she turned to see a flare rise into the sky. Stomping boots followed, heading up to her. More of the fucks with swords. They went down easily enough – the three standing at the floor of the building, throwing grenades at the only entrance and waiting with rifles at the ready, would not be so easily dissuaded.

But, they didn't see her. Suka took her time, aiming her sights at each one in turn and knocking them down. The first two scattered when her shots rang out, trying to find cover, but they also began to scan the rooftop for her and fired back. Their hasty, unaimed shots were easy to dodge anyway. Another quick firefight done. These damned ones were just beginning to _annoy_ her now. Suka moved along the rooftops, heading back to the roadblock that had stopped her from getting her earlier. Time to test if this thing she had found was a useless trinket, or actually useful.

She aimed it at a massive warhead, watching it heat up and then explode. Well, that certainly cleared paths. Time to use it against the other one blocking her path. Just as it blew up, more accursed rockets began flying towards her. _Fuck._ Time to find cover and see where they were coming from. Must have been beyond the roadblock. They hadn't fired at her on her first sweep through this area. Two charged from the open hole in the roadblock towards her. Not an issue, she had done this dance before.

This third one was new.

He came for her with a flamethrower, yelling incomprehensibly the entire way. His armor was tough, barely reacting to Suka's bullets. Time to switch it up. Suka aimed her rifle right at his head, unloading a full magazine into him. This seemed to help out. He slipped on his charge, falling backwards to the ground and landing hard. Time to deal with the bastards who were firing rockets at her. Suka counter-charged, hastily reloading as she ran. The one firing rockets was up on a platform, standing still. Easy target. One burst and done.

One hid behind a truck, the coward. With brutal efficiency, Suka killed him, with the last one running out from behind cover to challenge her in open combat. Five more shots, and gone. Lowering her rifle, she groaned, kneeling down. _Fuck._ One of them must have gotten a good shot in. She looked down at her chest to see blood seeping out from underneath her armor. God _dammit._ This wasn't supposed to happen.

The pain was starting to hit her now. Another hit of Med-X ought to do it. She cursed quietly as the drugs began to dull, but not remove, the pain. She stumbled over to the damned one's camp, her side crying out in pain every step of the way. Suka gritted her teeth, practically blinded by the pain. Collapsing on a dirty mattress, she peeled off her armor, pulling up the now-bloodstained beige shirt underneath. _Fuck,_ her telnyashka was ruined too. Not quite as bad as she first thought. It was a grazing hit. Where was that vodka she had earlier? Suka pulled the bottle out of her pack, knocking off the top and tossing it on the wound, flinching as it burned.

As she reeled in pain, screaming out involuntarily in Russian, the words she had seen scrawled on the entrance to this cursed place formed in her mind. She could just go back home. Go back to Veronica. Stop dealing with this dumb Ulysses and the fucking bastards who inhabited this cursed land. Before she knew it, the alcohol and Med-X hit her again, and Suka screamed again, collapsing on her side. Breathing deeply, she dared to look back at the wound, her heart beating faster than ever. A bandage and she'd be fine for now. Resting would help too.

_Fuck Ulysses,_ she thought as she rolled her shirt back down. She had never backed down in the face of adversity. Not against Major Gorshakov, not against House, not against the NCR and Legion. Ulysses would not stop her. Suka didn't care if she had to walk this road seven more times. She'd find Ulysses. He wanted to see her, talk about whatever she had supposedly done? Ulysses would not stop her. She would make sure Ulysses understood exactly how Russians solved disputes.


	3. Nightingales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suka continues on her path to find Ulysses, perhaps finding more than she bargained for along the way.

_Fuck._

How long had she been asleep? Suka grabbed her rifle, ignoring the pain in her side as she did so. Scan left, right, left again, nobody. Not another soul had come here. It was dark, the fires of the surrounding area still burning even hours later. She looked at her Pip-Boy. It was 0200, but when the hell had she gone to sleep? Maybe before 1700 hours? Fuck if she knew. More Med-X. She'd have to see if there was any medicine left in this wasteland the further she traveled. She had some stores left, but if she was going to take more hits like this, it would be better to have more on hand. Time to push forward through the pain. A tunnel was in front of her, just beyond the ruined road. It was the only route she could see as viable.

Suka got off the dirty bed, taking her rifle up in her hands as she got used to walking again. Med-X always made her dizzy. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to keep using it during her trip here. Better to keep her head clear. An ominous warning as she neared the tunnel entrance, “Keep Out”. As if that would ever stop her.

It was impossible to tell how long she had spent climbing over, through, and under rubble. Sections of the tunnel had collapsed, and she had to either find new routes through it, or claw her way through. The damned robot kept playing audio logs, more pointless babbling by whoever had owned it before. Suka didn't bother trying to parse the logs. They weren't worth her time, and she was not going to stop and ask for it to repeat itself seven times. As she neared a larger clearing, marked by ruined, sunken buildings and wide open spaces, she heard a telltale roar. _Deathclaw._ Where was it? Suka heard it stomping around, almost right in front of her. It hadn't seen her, and began moving away behind a corner. _Fuck._ If there were deathclaws here, then that made this entire venture even more dangerous than before. Could she even take on a deathclaw with her rifle? Unlikely.

There was something else out there. She heard something scrambling around, what sounded like claws scraping against the dirt and concrete. As she rounded the corner, Suka could have sword she saw something skitter around the corner. One, two, three seconds of waiting, listening. Nothing else. What was going on here? Suka walked slowly and deliberately, being careful not to step too loudly. Just in front of an abandoned truck, an NCR trooper was laid out on the loading gate, dead. An equally dead deathclaw corpse was inside, barely contained by the thing. Suka quickly searched the trooper – he had too much skin to be one of the damned ones she had seen earlier. No, he was different.

On the trooper's body, Suka found two interesting-looking grenades, marked…what was this word? _Flash?_ Right, yes, like lightning. She understood. It was some kind of grenade that made people see light, or something similar. These would be useful. Suka spotted dead NCR Rangers not too far away, likely having suffered the same fate as this one. He had some kind of note on him. Orders, maybe? She could understand only a few words, and they didn't help her figure out what they were doing down here any better than the bodies. If Cass or Veronica were here, they could tell her. Then she'd know.

Whatever. Time to keep moving. She rounded another corner, to be met by something growling. Little burrows had been dug by _something,_ evidently, but what? Just as she began to wonder, the something began crawling out of the burrow. It was black all over, vaguely human, but Suka knew that there was nothing human about this thing. It had become an animal, and like all other animals that inhabited the Wasteland, it would _die._ A quick, well-aimed burst killed it outright. _Well, proof positive,_ Suka thought. Not so scary after all.

Suka shook her head, walking past the burrow to continue forward. Barely even a meter away, she heard more things crawling out to attack her. Two in front, a third coming from behind. Suka whipped around, dealing with the one behind her first. One burst killed it. She turned around, aiming to fire at the ones that had appeared from her path. A big one lunged at her, throwing her aim off and sending her to the ground. Its rough, scaly skin grated against Suka as she grappled with it, and she kicked it in the chest to give herself room to draw a blade. Quick handwork turned the knife around in a good position to drive it into this thing's skull, but her work was not done yet. The third one was still coming for her, screeching as it joined in the melee. Suka rolled over, and it landed where she used to be, disorienting the creature just long enough for Suka to grab her rifle and plant a bullet in its head.

_Fuck,_ something else hurt now. She looked at her arms. The goddamned things had scratched the hell out of them. No time to bandage. She could hear more of these abominations moving further down in this tunnel. Suka checked her magazine – half a mag left, four more ready to go in her combat rig. Six Makarov magazines at the ready, plus one in the gun itself. She could do this. These little bastards were nothing, just minor roadbumps on the path to murder Ulysses. Suka gritted her teeth as she thought of the man again. _Ulysses._ The name itself was like poison in her mind. Her rifle had killed many men over the months she had it, but this kill would be the best, most sweetest of them all. She would _savor_ this one. She would stand over his dying body, and spit in his face, taunting him until his final pitiful breath left his body.

A narrow passageway. This was prime ambush country, and apparently the beasts here thought the same. Suka watched seven of them crawl out from their burrows, meeting each one with rifle fire as they began to swarm her. _Tactical retreat time,_ she thought as she pulled out one of the flashbangs, pulling the pin as she ran around a corner from whence she came. Predictably, they followed her, right into the flashbang's radius. It went off with a bright light, and the creatures began to scream. _Good, it must have worked._ Suka headed back, watching half of them run off, and the others fight each other. Time to put them out of their misery. She emptied the magazine into them, heading past the burrows to find parts of a broken highway that led out of the tunnel. A sign reading “High Road” was above it. Looked like a viable option.

* * *

Suka headed out to the highway, watching a tunnel exit become clear. Like before, the robot swiftly moved in front of her, and _his_ voice echoed again from it.

“There you are…” he said. “Went quiet for a time. Thought you might have returned to Vegas, its comforts. Maybe took that _machine_ with you.”

Suka narrowed her eyes, even though she knew full well he'd never be able to see her. “Why would I take the machine?” she demanded. “It's not _mine._ I do not care about this thing.”

Ulysses was silent, almost as if he were contemplating her answer. Finally, he scoffed. “There's a lesson here, in the Divide. Old World history about holding on to something so tightly it breaks…or falls apart.”

What did he mean with this? Was he talking about Veronica? He couldn't have known. There was no way. He had been here, right? Waiting for her all this time? Unless…unless he _had_ known, _did_ know. Unless he had been watching her. How else could he know the things he did? He was insinuating more than a few things, and it was making Suka's blood _boil._ Her fists clenched, knuckles feeling like they'd break through her skin as she tried to temper her rage, stop herself from grinding her teeth down to dust.

“You don't know a _fucking_ thing,” she shouted, before realizing she had switched back to Russian. _Shit._ It had been a long, _long_ time since anyone had made her angry enough to forget to use English.

“You made your way through the Old World towns, the tunnels that join them,” Ulysses said, apparently not reacting to her outburst. “Now…the High Road. May have seen the cracks in Vegas's walls already. If not, they'll grow back in time. All you've seen behind you…there's worse along this stretch. Deathclaws – hunt the Marked Men, and they also hunt what burrows below.”

Suka took a deep breath, swallowing a chunk of her rage and staring back at this accursed robot. “I understand now, yes?” she said, attempting to conceal her anger. “You are afraid of New Vegas's power. You are afraid of _me.”_

“Power isn't strength,” he said dismissively. “Power can wall off someone, when they _believe_ it's freed them. Your tower…it's more lights than strength.”

“We are a long way from New Vegas, yes?” Suka asked. “No place to argue _perspective.”_

“Maybe that's why you chose New Vegas,” Ulysses replied. “The lights can blind, make people forget themselves. Their convictions – vows. Not going to waste time trying to make the blind see.”

 _“You are not making sense,”_ she warned him. “I don't want to talk anymore. Where do I go next?”

“At the end of the High Road lies Ashton – its silo,” he answered. “That _machine_ with you, it can open it, wake it up, like it did that one in Hopeville.”

 _“This road goes nowhere,”_ Suka said. “Nothing is _here.”_

“Many in the Mojave think the Divide's nothing but canyon and storm. Wasn't always. There was life…a town, farther West. Not talking about an Old World town like Hopeville…more recent. Something you saw in your lifetime. It had the name 'The Divide' too. But rather than cracks in the earth, it was a road from West into the Mojave, a supply line.” He seemed almost... _nostalgic_ if Suka didn't know any better, but he quickly snapped out of it. “Took a Courier to make that road. _You._ Back then, _you_ saw the road with your eyes facing East. This time…the Divide's in the other direction. And if your eyes try to make sense of it when you reach it…home's not what it was.”

Suka tilted her head, frowning. “This is not the road to my home. Do you think I am stupid, Ulysses?”

“All roads lead back to one's home. Not your birthplace, maybe, but home.” Ulysses said. “Home isn't where you're born into this world. You taught me that. Part of your message, whether you meant it or not. Can be a place of mind, a moment where you know who you are, the history of it. And they can be the places you breathe life into. Never would have known the Divide had it not been for you. The road you made with your tracks, again and again. _You_ were the only one willing to make the journey to and from here…a hard road. Kept the land before the Divide alive through seasons, storms… _can't_ have been just a job. Was something more to you. Don't feel for a place that hard unless it was home.”

She could feel the anger rising back up again. He was accusing her of being _attached_ to these stupid places she didn't remember, of going places she never saw, doing things she couldn't recall. He had to have heard the stories, of the courier who came back from death to show the big empires who was really in charge of Vegas. He had to have known – how else could he have known about Veronica?

“You know _nothing,”_ Suka challenged. “I have walked many roads, yes? Gone to many places? This road is not one I am familiar with. You tell tall tales of places I go to, _yes?_ Of places existing because of me? _I_ will tell you what exists because of me, Ulysses, it is New Vegas and the _safe_ country I have built from it. You think you can scare me with memories of home? My home is New Vegas, not Vault 18. This road does not go to New Vegas, it _ends_ in New Vegas. Do I make myself clear?”

He was silent for some time, and she almost thought he had abandoned speaking with her. “Even if you deny it, cast it aside, that speaks to what you are. _Proves_ what happened here. And…you've forgotten.” He said the word with so much venom, she could feel the poison dripping from his voice. “Forgotten _everything._ Careless, as careless with futures then as you are now in the Mojave. It was _you_ walking that road that kept the Divide alive. It grew from what _you_ did. Settlers…camps…filling that Old World city. Chance for a new nation, new beginning. New way of thinking. Could've breathed life into the Mojave, bridging East, West. Like Hoover Dam…but not Old World. Something _you_ made.”

“You are making big talk, yes?” Suka said back, cursing herself as she forgot the word in English, yet _again._ She fucking _hated_ it every time she forgot how to say something in English. It made her look stupid. She vowed to never make herself look stupid ever again, but this always happened with her.

“No,” he said flatly. “Recounting history. NCR saw the worth in that road you made. Staked a claim, whether it was wanted or not – true elsewhere in the Mojave. And when the Bear tries to cling to life, the Legion comes…bearing messages. Some brought by blade…others, Couriers. _You_ knew what was coming, as sure as I know what's coming to _you._ This time _you_ carry the burden. Walk west into the sun, and keep walking until it dies. There – I'll be waiting.”

Once again, she waited, trying to see if he would say anything else, but the robot returned to normal, happily beeping at her as if nothing was wrong. _Stupid thing,_ she thought. The sun was beginning to rise – she could see it just barely above the broken highway in front of her. Her Pip-Boy said it was 0700 hours. Plenty of daylight time for traveling. It would have to be enough. Suka shook her head, sighing as she readjusted her grip on her rifle, stepping off to head to the top of the High Road.

She thought the Divide would make her angry. But now, between Ulysses and the abominations here, she was just annoyed.


	4. By the Long Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suka travels the High Road.

Suka sighed. The way up was marked by countless broken pieces of concrete impeding her progress, forcing her to climb her way up on her hands and knees. The top of the High Road itself, an equally broken highway littered with the shells of destroyed cars. She spotted a camp built in front of one of the semis – two of the so-called Marked Men had built a fire here, using it to cook some food. They spotted her before she could make an attempt to conceal herself, find an alternate route. One, outfitted in some kind of false Legion armor, lifted up a machine gun. The other charged at her with a sword. The threat was clear as day – take the machine gunner out first.

Suka fired off a burst, but his armor was strong. Her rounds didn't seem to even affect him, and he started opening fire himself. She rolled to the left, taking cover behind a broken concrete divider. The Marked Man's bullets ricocheted off her cover, and within seconds a familiar _tinging_ noise came to her right. Grenade. Thinking quickly, Suka grabbed the grenade and flung it back as quickly as she could, hearing it go off moments later. The machine gun had stopped firing. Time for her to reply in kind. Suka rose back up, this time aiming for center mass. Another burst from her rifle, and this time it seemed to do something. The Marked Man began stumbling back, but he was regaining his footing quickly.

Suka kept herself moving, dodging his bullets and trying to find cover. She could hear his shots embedding themselves in the trailer she had sought refuge behind. The sound of a machine gun ammo belt hitting the ground signaled another opportunity for her. She ducked out low from cover, catching her enemy in the middle of reloading. How many rounds had she fired? Suka wasn't sure, but she did know that this round of firing killed this damned Marked Man. She exhaled slowly, not closing her eyes for a few seconds as she stood back up.

She rolled her neck, rocking the magazine back and taking it out to check the ammo levels. The magazine was light in her hand. Maybe a few rounds left. She could see at least two rounds in the follower, but any more than that was speculative at best. Suka didn't much like the idea of putting a near-empty magazine into her bag, and without unloading and reloading the magazine – a process she didn't have time for right now – she couldn't even top it off. May as well load a new magazine in, no need to waste ammo.

As she slung her bag around to stuff the magazine in, Suka looked around. Collapsed buildings dotted the wasteland, poking out from the ground like wretched fingers stretching to the sky. The same dust storm covered the area, preventing her from seeing any farther than maybe about a kilometer out. Signs of the past, relics of America, leaned against old buildings that leaned against the highway. Broken chunks of tarmac stood out amongst the waste, like pillars in a church. Just ahead of her, another collection of broken cars led the path to an arch made by two destroyed skyscrapers.

With a fresh, heavy magazine loaded in, Suka ventured over a pile of rubble with a massive plus sign on it. Just as she did so, two Marked Men began moving her way, patrolling the ruined highway. One had a flare gun that he used to light up the sky, no doubt as a signal for reinforcements. The other held a rifle, shouldering it to start firing at her. Suka opened up with a burst, killing him without a second thought, and then transferred her aim to the other. Both knocked down without difficulty. Suka lowered her rifle, looking out among the area. This arch had a way up. Something was up there – she could see somebody at the window, but they didn't look alive.

Time to investigate. Suka climbed carefully up the broken building, making sure not to slip and fall on the creaky, unstable concrete and rebar pathways that offered a way over. Somebody had made a camp here. Ulysses, maybe. Wait, no, definitely. She found another one of his logs and listened to it as she took a break. Time to rest, get some water in her, eat. Sitting down and taking a _pirozhok_ out of her bag, Suka began to take stock of the little place she had found. There were tons of ammo boxes around here, and the dead man she had suspected was up here was, upon closer examination, a dead NCR Ranger outfitted in riot armor. A sniper rifle was on the opposite end. Probably this man's sniper outpost.

Suka rolled her head back as she swallowed a chunk of _pirozhok,_ listening to Ulysses's pointless ramblings. The air tasted stale, and not even the smell of the onions and potatoes in her meal could overcome the stench of death and decay all around her. She leaned back, savoring the last bites of the _pirozhok_ , wishing she had thought to bring more. These were the last few in her pack – any longer, and they risked going bad. She'd have to supplement her meals with whatever she could find around here. Did anything grow? Unlikely. She hadn't seen anything green for kilometers, not since she had left Hopeville.

She looked out at the remains of the High Road, sighing as she contemplated how best to tackle the road ahead. Rolling her sleeves up, Suka prepared to head out. She'd have to renegotiate her way back down to the road, a prospect she wasn't terribly fond of. But, she had to check every corner. She had to know. She had to stop _somewhere,_ after all. Was this constant cycle of fight, explore, fight what Ulysses wanted for her? If so, she'd be plenty pissed off by the time she got to Ulysses.

Now back on the road, Suka headed over the highway, noting a handful of Deathclaws in front of her. No way around them, unless she suddenly sprouted wings and could fly. What was it Ulysses had said about the warheads? _Fuck it,_ she decided. Blow it up anyway. It exploded as predicted, knocking the Deathclaws off their feet and down to the abyss below. If they weren't dead before, they'd surely be dead now. Suka continued on the road, passing by old vehicles – and by now, feeling the pain of yesterday's wounds. Med-X must have worn off. She nearly collapsed on this dusty old road, crying out in pain. The fucking robot, this stupid thing, it had decided _now_ was the best moment to start playing more old recordings. Hadn't it figured out that she didn't _care_ about whatever the fuck it had on its memory? Suka grimaced as she jabbed another hit of Med-X into her leg, groaning as it flooded her veins.

Now with a renewed sense of vigor, Suka surged forward, ignoring the pain in her body as she headed further down the road to insanity. She came across what looked like a fork in the road, and paused. She scanned the area, trying to see if there was something out there. Aside from destroyed cars, ruined signs, and the twisted skeletal remains of a highway, there was nothing.

Except there was smoke. Coming from the dead end, where the tunnel collapsed and became impossible to traverse. That was odd. Suka climbed up the rocks, finding another campsite. Another mark of Ulysses. How often had he made camp here, left these logs? Suka checked her Pip-Boy. It didn't feel like it, but she had spent nearly eight hours on the road. It seemed impossibly long and short at the same time. Well, this place was decently sited. Defensible. If she had them, she could use mines to defend herself, but she had to risk sleeping out in the open for a little while longer. Suka rolled her shoulders, resting her rifle against a rock and lying down on the bedroll that was nearby. She slipped into sleep, perhaps more easily than she would have liked, practically becoming one with the rock.

* * *

She jolted awake, trying to remember where she was. It was dark, far too dark than it should have been. Where was her rifle? _There,_ on her left. She snatched her Kalashnikov, pulling back the bolt to make sure a round was chambered. The shine of brass off what little light there was informed her that her rifle was ready to go, just like always. Suka craned her neck around, quietly crawling over to the edge of the rock's edge. Nothing approaching her camp. She couldn't see any other threats further down the path. The panic that had been sending her heart into overdrive began to slow down. Suka's chest shuddered, heaving as her last labored breaths were jettisoned out of her lungs. The shaking began to stop, and like nothing had ever happened, her breathing went back to normal.

Back to her Pip-Boy. It was 0445 hours. Dawn would be coming soon. Maybe she should get back to traveling. Before she could even _think_ of getting back to traveling, she felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her sides. Med-X must have worn off, _again._ Suka cursed as she pulled out another needle, jabbing it in her side in some hope that it'd relieve her pain quicker. Within just a few seconds, she could feel her face relaxing as the drugs hit her. _Thank fucking Christ,_ she thought, sighing. From where she was, it looked like there was a way down. Maybe that'd be helpful.

She began heading down from the highway, being careful not to lose her footing and start sliding down. More clicks on the Geiger counter. _Fuck,_ she hadn't brought nearly enough Rad-X for this. Only four doses left, if her count was right. Maybe there'd be some around, who knew with this place. She had found ammo, surely she could find food and Rad-X too.

As Suka neared the bottom of the ravine, the damned tunneling things rose up to attack her. They swarmed her, forcing her to engage them with her bayonet as she tried to make space. One of them knocked her off her feet, and had it not been for the intervention of the robot, spooking them off with a flash of light, she wasn't sure if she could have gotten out of it. Still, she unholstered her pistol, firing off rage-filled shots at the damned things as they retreated. The morning sun began to rise, painting the area with an orange hue. A ruined building sat askew, with piles of junk blocking her path further. She could probably get across it, _had_ to. No stone could be left unturned. Ulysses had brought her here for a _reason,_ was telling her these stories for a _reason._ She had to discover what it was before she killed him.

Nothing. Fuck all nothing. Suka sighed, angry she had wasted this much time on _nothing._ Shouldn't have even come down here. There was nothing. Fucking waste of time. Suka shook her head the entire way back up, cursing her luck. Other than these useless logs, relics of Ulysses walking these roads, there were no clues. All she could glean was this place had once existed – and then it didn't. Ulysses spoke of a town existing, that she had built, but she didn't remember doing anything of the sort. Was he lying? Or had Benny's bullet done more damage than she thought?

Well, standing around the broken highway trying to remember memories she couldn't find wouldn't help anything. Suka rolled her shoulders, backtracking her way to the highway and heading to the side road she had seen earlier. It had to be the way. Nothing else made sense. Enough time spent going down. Time to go up now.

The side road was filled with burning vehicles, twisted hunks of metal that spanned the road. The canyon walls rose up to flank her, becoming ever more oppressive with the passing meter. It reminded her far too much of Vault 18, of the past she had left behind and murdered there. Was this intentional on Ulysses's part? _No,_ Suka thought, pushing the idea out of her mind. _Can't be. Nobody knows._ The only people who _did_ were dead – like Arcade – or knew better than to talk about it, like Cassidy.

Cassidy.

It was a name a lifetime ago, one she had almost forgotten about with as infrequently as she had seen her lately. What would she think of this road? Of Ulysses? Suka smirked as she thought immediately of the answer. Probably tell Ulysses to fuck off and grab the nearest bottle of whiskey. She missed traveling with Cassidy. Maybe she would do that when she got back to New Vegas, after spending good time with Veronica, of course.

The sound of beeping brought Suka out of her thoughts of the past. Something exploded, sending Suka to her back – and with a new set of pain. She scrambled back up, trying to source the explosions, but found nothing. Must be crude, locally-made mines. Nothing else made sense. She sprinted to the right, scaling a rocky overlook to get a better idea of what she was facing. A skeletal hunk of metal provided cover for her as she looked down on the road. Like she had suspected, someone had mined it with satchel charges. _Fuck._ She had to find alternate paths.

Actually, no. She didn't _have_ to. The main road was filled with satchel charges, but the sides were not. As long as she didn't stray near the dirt piles, she was fine. Suka dropped down, avoiding the center of the road as much as possible.

Which didn't help much when the Marked Men ambushed her.

As much as it annoyed the hell out of her, Suka had to commend them for their excellent spot. They must have been former NCR – Legion would not have bothered with an ambush. Two provided cover with sniper rifles, while another charged at her with a sword made out of a fucking car's bumper, of all things. Suka was glad she had reloaded, starting to open fire on them. The charging one was mostly unaffected by her bullets, and her aim was thrown off as one of the snipers got a good shot off, grazing her left arm. Before she knew it, the charging one was upon her, swinging his sword wildly. She juked out of his way, dropping her Kalashnikov and pulling out her pistol. One, two, three shots, and his armor broke, with him falling to the ground.

Snipers next. Suka fought through the pain, grabbing her Kalashnikov again and flipping it to single-fire. Automatic wouldn't help here. Ignoring the blood that was pouring out of her arm, she took careful aim and fired two shots at each sniper, watching them collapse from their positions. She waited, scanning for another group of them. All was quiet.

Suka sighed, relaxing slightly. Time to wrap up her wounds, stop the bleeding. Stop the pain. She looked ahead of her – they had been protecting the way to the silo that Ulysses was talking about. She was getting close. She could feel it. Suka could practically taste the gunpowder, smell the smoke from her rifle, and hear the blood cascading upon the ground as she finally killed Ulysses. Suka felt herself smiling, the iron smell of blood filling the air as she tightened the bandage on her arm. Was it hers? It didn't matter anymore.

When she was done, the only blood that anyone would smell would be Ulysses's.


	5. The Rockets are Always Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suka learns about the past, with her path seemingly only ever going further and further down.

Suka staggered into the half-ruined building, with another control panel. Useless words were written on it in English, phrases she didn't care about and couldn't translate even if she wanted to. Scattered toolboxes and metal containers, placed without rhyme or reason, dotted the floor. Papers, old pamphlets, and manila folders, all long stomped on and marred by years of being exposed to the harsh sun, made navigating a dangerous affair. In front of her, the broken wall revealed a massive concrete clearing.

The robot unlocked something on the control panel, and a throw lever rose up out of it. Ulysses had said something about “waking up” the Ashton silo. This must have been it. She gripped her Kalashnikov tight in her hand, using her left hand to throw the lever. In the clearing, two large doors folded out, revealing a rounded triangle that began to poke out from the ground. _Wait, no,_ this was one of the many warheads she had seen on her path here. What the fuck was it doing _there?_

_Wait a minute. The MBR._ She stared in horrified confusion, shielding her eyes as the MBR took off to the skies. A warning siren began to blare, ringing in her ears with each passing tone. The sound of the rocket overwhelmed all, and she was knocked off her feet by the blast. Suka could do nothing but watch as the MBR ascended to the sky, wobbling as it leveled out and exploded. An all-too-familiar mushroom cloud lit up the air. Forgetting she still held her rifle, Suka hastened to her feet, trying to find logic in this senselessness. It looked like it hit the other side of the Divide.

The only path ahead of her was through this bunker door. Time to keep moving forward.

* * *

The elevator took her down, and she was greeted with radiation, earthquakes, and these damned tunneling things. Before she could even think of popping Rad-X, the tunnelers came for her. Two this time, and both easily dispatched with rounds from her rifle. It wasn't safe here. She had to keep moving forward. The only road was ahead, on this old, rickety lift to take her even further down into hell. _Arcade would probably have something to say about this,_ she thought as she activated the old lift. Down below, she could see flames. There was no telling what kind of threats she'd face here, and thus Suka elected to switch to her shotgun, slinging her Kalashnikov behind her back for now.

The fucking tunnelers just _never. Stopped. Coming._ She lost track of how many shells she dropped, how many times she had been knocked down and had to resort to her blade or pistol to get a few off of her. By the time she had reached the bottom, her arms were covered in scratches, the green blood of these damn things, and her supply of shotgun shells had been exhausted. She crashed through the double pair of bunker doors in front of her, eager to get away from the insanity she had just endured.

Suka found herself inside some kind of control center. Wrecked computer consoles flanked each wall, with a staircase heading down. Something exploded deeper inside. She didn't find time to care. All Suka had to do now was self-medicate, and maybe get some water in her. Did she have any left? She thought she had been rationing her supplies, but it was hard to tell. There was a desk nearby with an intact chair – that'd help. Suka collapsed on the chair, bringing out another dose of Med-X for herself. Looked like she had seven doses left. Not ideal, but not terrible, either. A Stimpak or two would help with the pain, keep her moving. One more needle found its way into her veins, followed up by another one for the Stimpak. Water next. Clean bottle, clean water. Warm from the weeks of traveling, but that didn't much matter.

With her head clear, Suka stood back up, tossing the used needles away. Time to take stock of this floor. The door in front of her looked promising. She headed through it, exploring the abandoned hallways and finding little of value. Sighing, Suka backtracked, heading downstairs. She carefully negotiated her way around the silo, fresh from the missile launch, being careful to avoid the fires that burned inside on the walls and on piles of junk. Time to head deeper down into the gaping chasm of hell that awaited her at the bottom. Down there, hidden among the broken chunks of concrete, lay a building, relatively untouched except for the fact it was buried deep within this silo.

The building was uninteresting. There was nothing worthwhile in here, unless you count the casings from her rifle as she fought the tunnelers. Pointless, boring walls made of white paint, red carpets accented with some weird color she didn't remember the name of, and countless posters she didn't bother to read. Suka long lost track of how many floors she had gone up, how many of these abominations she had killed. All that mattered was reaching the top.

She opened the door to the outside, walking out onto the roof of the tower she had spent hours ascending. By the time she had made it up there, the sky had turned orange. Exhausted, Suka leaned against the exit she had just used, closing her eyes as she slid down to the floor. Like a bloatfly that just didn't know when to quit, Ulysses's voice crackled across the robot's speakers.

“Hopeville, High Road, Ashton…tiny cracks in the earth, _nothing_ compared to the road carved ahead. Before you…this is the _edge_ of the Divide. Ahead lies _your_ work, the history _you_ burned into the earth.” He paused, almost for dramatic effect, and Suka slowly opened her eyes. “What _you_ brought to the people here.”

Suka sighed, her head knocking back against the wall behind her. “You keep saying I did this, Ulysses. Maybe you have it wrong, yes? Maybe you are going crazy?”

“No,” he said. “ _You_ delivered a package. Had markings that matched those in the Divide. Not all…but enough. Military markings, from someplace the Bear had savaged in the West.” Once again, he paused, for what reason Suka didn't know. “Maybe seeing those markings on it reminded you of home…made you carry it.”

She closed her eyes again, trying to think what he could be talking about. Lot of things could have matched that kind of description. She vaguely recalled being in the West at some point, in a place called the Hub. Maybe somewhere else. All she could think of was of Soviet airborne symbols, the parachute descending from the skies with planes, watched over by a hammer and sickle inlaid within a red star. The same accursed symbols she remembered, that she had murdered at Vault 18. She tried to place it with this so-called package Ulysses spoke of, but couldn't piece the two images together.

Maybe something else. Americans loved their symbols. Maybe he knew better than she did. Suka shrugged, opening her eyes again as if he could actually see Ulysses in front of her. “You say I brought this package from the West, _yes?_ I do not remember such a thing.”

“It was a device, a detonator,” he said, uncharacteristically quickly. His voice simmered with rage, almost as if his anger was about to boil over and strangle her through this robot. “One I'd never seen before – or heard before. _You_ carried that thing to the Divide. I know because I followed you as you walked the road, watched you do it. _You_ brought it here, to the community _you_ built. And _you_ are responsible for what happened after – when the device opened, started to speak. When it did, the Divide answered back.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Those missiles you've seen, buried in their silos. They exploded beneath the ground, cracked the landscape. Sand, ash…the dead…the Divide skies became a graveyard.”

Suka smirked, her head beginning to feel heavy as the effects of Med-X and the Stimpak began to wear off. “You cannot be sure it was me,” she said. “It could have been anyone, yes?”

“No,” he replied flatly. “I'm certain. What I hadn't known was that you still _lived_ after the Divide. What happened here…can happen again. You've already proved it, what you did in Ashton. The silo there.”

_“_ _Fuck you,”_ she said, furrowing her brow. Had she used Russian again? Maybe. She hated doing that. “I have had enough of this. Whatever your game is, I am _done_ playing it _,_ Ulysses.”

“No. _You_ are. Cut off your retreat, your supply line. Ashton missile, turned Hopeville into a furnace. You could walk back. Still can – but the Divide will mark you, sickness will set in. Not immediate, maybe, but in time. Slow burn, a little faster than before.”

Suka shook her head, quickly becoming even more annoyed with Ulysses than ever before. “I am _tired_ of wordplay, yes? Get to your point, Ulysses.”

He paused, as if he hadn't expected her to say something back. “The way ahead and below – leads to the heart of the Divide. And there…you and I, we'll have an ending to things.”

 _“Tell me where you are,”_ Suka growled. “Then we will have our ending.”

“At the end of the Divide,” Ulysses said. “Through the trenches and wreckage. That's where you'll find me. My new home here, amongst dead men. You and that _machine_ keep your eyes on the tower that cuts the horizon…you'll find your way. Made it this far…not much further to go.”

With that, Ulysses cut off once again. No time for her to rest – the Marked Men had found her. The flares burned against the orange sky, stark red streaks that signaled terror and anger. She took to the roof's edge, crouching low to steady her rifle and make sure she didn't accidentally fall off. This far up, landing on the hard ground would be a hell of a way to die. They were organized, but their weapons were far better suited for medium range combat, not long-range. She could take her time, pick her targets. The lackluster, improvised armor did little to stop her bullets from shredding them, wrecking the cobbled-together forces without much issue. Before she could fully take in eliminating them, she saw them start to retreat. Perhaps another time to hunt.

The hours had worn on her. Night was falling, and she didn't much like the idea of exploring this place with no light to aid her. Suka had to find a way off this roof. A rusted, metal girder provided a way down, but it was rickety, and not at all stable. No other choice, unfortunately. She slowly and carefully climbed her way down, making sure to keep her grip on the metal at all times. After some heart attack-inducing slips, she managed to make it down to what looked like an office, with another one of Ulysses's logs stored here. This would be a good place to rest for the night.

She listened to his logs as she made camp and got the last of her _pirozhok_ in her. He spoke at length of a people called the New Canaanites, who apparently had been wiped out by his order. Long, pointless words of obedience, loyalty, honor, traditions, history. She didn't care. She only listened to see if she could find some way to understand Ulysses better, find a way to kill him through his own words. She listened long and hard to his words, repeating the tapes to make sense of them as she looked out to the night air, hoping that by listening she could gain insight. The twisted wrecks of buildings and broken slabs of broken concrete pained a scene of devastation and destruction.

And yet, even as the words of Ulysses's past circled in her mind, the phrases he had used earlier swam counter to them, interrupting her thoughts from time to time. He had said that she made this place, called it “home” even if she never used the word herself. Ulysses claimed she had brought this ruin and devastation upon the Divide, made this land not a place to be worshiped or honored, but shunned and forgotten. She was sure of it – the answer was hidden in these logs of his. It had to be. Either he was lying, or she was going crazy. There was no two ways about it.

Eventually, listening to his logs became boring, and she absentmindedly kept one on loop, turning her thoughts back to Veronica as she lied down to sleep. She missed Veronica darling so, so much. Nobody else had come close to matching the energy and excitement she brought. Suka would do anything to have her by her side on this road. Veronica could help her with the pain, keep her focused on her job here. But, also, Suka couldn't imagine risking Veronica in a place like this. A starry-eyed girl with a pneumatic fist in her hands? She would not survive here. As she drifted off to sleep, some of Ulysses's words rang true for her though – no need for bombs if hate will do.

Suka certainly hated Ulysses.


	6. March of Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suka finds herself able to remember.

Far too uncomfortably for her, Suka woke up from the night's rest with no memory of where she was. Once again, she grabbed her Kalashnikov, scanning the small room for threats and finding none. Calming the disquiet in her heart, Suka slowed her breathing and centered herself. _Right._ She had fallen asleep to the sound of Ulysses's voice, talking of people ten years gone like she had known them all her life. The night's rest had brought her something else, not just a recharge and rejuvenation for the day coming forward. 

She remembered what Ulysses was talking about.

The smell of stale cigarettes filled the air in the tiny room she called her home, and it was like she could see the Divide in its former glory in front of her. Ulysses was, unfortunately, right all along. She _had_ built the town, but she had not given it the name. That honor belonged to someone else – she just brought caravans safely by, keeping them company as she moved objects for people. She had stood silently by – back then, she didn't quite know enough English to converse with anyone – watching the little town grow and become a thriving community. 

On her right side as she got up, Suka saw a mirror, her right arm tattoos reflected in the image. One in particular caught her eye today. Nestled in between a handful of crosses and a few of her skulls, there stood a man with a familiar gun, a PPSh. He was caped, with a strange S imprinted on his chest. She didn't remember having this when she left the Vault, but today was a day of discovery for Suka. 

She frowned, the memory starting to come back to her. This was not a tattoo she had been marked with by the men of her Vault. This came later. This came from the Divide. The people here once had a tattoo artist, and wanted something delivered. In return, she would give Suka a new piece of ink. Suka had asked for something simple, but the artist denied it, had her own vision. In the confusion of being shot, Suka assumed it had meant something to the VDV and thought they had assigned it to her.

She knew better now. The town had given this to her. It branded her as a “fighter”, they explained. Suka did what nobody else in the town ever would, and she remembered it perfectly. She had brutally and without question murdered anyone who went against the town in exchange for caps. For the town's leadership, telling her that someone in the town was a rapist was a surefire way to get Suka to kill them. The true meaning was clear – she was branded as a sadist. Back then, she didn't know the English word, thought it was a compliment. 

Suka remembered clearly now why she had destroyed this place. They had lied to her, _used_ her almost the same way Vault 18 had used her. For that, they were punished. Suka looked at her Pip-Boy clock. 0736 hours. Fourteen days on the road. She hadn't expected to take this long on this trip. This accursed tattoo reminded her of too many things, and she wasn't in the mood to keep reliving old memories. 

She stood up, rolling her shoulders as she prepared to navigate the girder again. She headed back up, but only halfway before she found a room with actual stairs. That would help with getting to the ground. Suka took stock of her ammo again as she walked down the stairs – probably four or five magazines in her bag, three full magazines in her chest rig. One half-full magazine in her rifle. She'd have to see if she could find a reloading bench, try and craft replacement rounds. She didn't much like the idea of it, but she could rely on her pistol if she had to. A lot of the Marked Men carried 9mm ammo. 

The situation on the ground looked like she expected. Broken, destroyed chunks of concrete and buildings dotted the landscape, and a collapsed skyscraper marked the edge of this place. This had once been a city square, she remembered it. This was where she had gone to get her payment, gotten that tattoo. She sighed as the pass narrowed into a canyon, with a warhead blocking her path. Time to blow this one up to clear the way. Quite unintentionally, the warhead's detonation disrupted a building, sending it crashing right into the path she was supposed to take. 

Suka sighed, cursing her luck. This wasn't what she wanted, she didn't want _more_ delays in her journey. _Whatever._ One more side road would not kill her. Suka crossed the path where the warhead once was, and immediately came under fire. Marked Men flooded out of a half-wrecked building, warranting a response from her. She began firing back, with her rifle quickly clicking empty. _Shit._ No time to take cover, she had to keep moving and reload at the same time. Suka sprinted to her right, rocking a new magazine in and racking the bolt with her off hand. Bullets whizzed by her head, and she considered it lucky that they were terrible shots. Another series of bursts, and the last two went down without even so much as a whimper of pain. 

She looked to the right. A massive crate was embedded in the earth, marked with another one of Ulysses's signals. She investigated it, searching it. Had to have something – he had been here before. There, she found another log of his, and listened to it as she explored the area, hoping to find an alternate route through the area with the collapsed building blocking her path. She couldn't parse all the words – partially because she didn't quite catch them, partially because she didn't care – but he spoke of America. Of speaking to people who knew it, had grown up in it. He said something about knowing what's in the heart of the Divide, how to speak to it.

Whatever that meant.

Suka found her alternate path soon enough, a pile of earth leading up to a wrecked building, with a hole opened up to it by some kind of weapon. Had to be high explosive – nothing else could have done this. As she headed into the ruined building's interior, she saw another one of Ulysses's markings. Red. This one meant danger, right? Had to be. Red didn't mean anything else in her world, other than blood. She came across a small camp, ignoring the area and pushing further into the cave that she could see in front of her. 

The small cave expanded to show a massive underground tunnel complex. _Fuck,_ she thought as she headed in. This meant more tunnelers. Suka sighed, pulling out her shotgun. No time to waste with her rifle. Four of them immediately swarmed her, and she opened fire. One had its head blown off immediately, followed up by the second one sliding across the ground as it charged at her. She couldn't work the lever fast enough to chamber a new round, and _again_ she was pinned by one of them. It screamed at her as she unsheathed her knife, slicing its throat open and shoving the thing off her, daring the final one to leap at her. Predictably, it did, and it yelped in pain as it took a blade to the stomach. 

Time to keep moving, keep killing. She could hear more of them deeper within, screeching and scrambling out of the ground. She lost track of time – and ammo – as she fought her way through the tunnels, with more than a few new wounds to show for her efforts. The bodies of dozens, maybe even a hundred, tunnelers showed the work she had done so far, alongside the empty shells that had collected at her feet. The only path ahead was this building. She could feel it. She was getting close. With pain-induced madness, Suka surged forward, self-medicating again with a shot of Med-X. 

Suka burst through the door, faced with a metal staircase. Ascending it, she almost was surprised by a dead Marked Man propped up against the wall, but held her fire. The staircase led up to a hallway, all sorts of filing cabinets, desks and other furniture scattered across it. The robot kept playing old tapes, but she never bothered listening – her goal was close in sight. She could see light coming from a door at the end of this hallway. The Divide was there, so close. All she had to do was push through this pain a little longer. 

* * *

The minute she stepped out into the Divide once more, the warmth of the sun was cast upon her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. For once, she was _happy_ to be back out in the Divide. Anything to escape the hellhole that was the tunnels and the abominations down there. Immediately, the robot moved forward ahead of her, where once again Ulysses began to speak to her. 

“Thought that explosion, that building falling deep in the Divide might have been your work…wouldn't kill you, maybe close.”

“Well, as you can see,” Suka replied, gritting her teeth. “I am alive and well, _yes?_ Are you close, asshole? I want to have a nice talk with you.” 

“Knew you'd survive,” he said, ignoring her request. “But no need to go any farther. You've brought what I need – that _machine_ with you, sealed in the Hopeville silo. Needed someone to unlock it – bring it home. Now the signal's strong enough, no need for you to carry it anymore. I can call your machine to me.” 

Suka tilted her head, frowning and furrowing her brow. “Why do _you_ want the machine? What do you need it for?” 

“It's a messenger. Like us…and it shares our history. If you feel its loss…”

“I _don't,_ ” Suka shot back immediately. “It's a _robot._ A _thing._ I don't _care_ about it.” 

“Remember you could have turned away at any time,” he continued, undeterred. “Gone back home, and none of this would have happened. But _you_ had to make one last delivery, and that's why I knew you'd come, Suka. Couldn't stay away. It's who you are.” 

She frowned, narrowing her eyes. “You do not know _anything_ about me. You think you do, but your knowledge of me is based on lies and assumptions.” 

“I only speak the truth,” Ulysses said. “Not my duty to give vision to the blind. Told you that already.”

“I do not _care_ about your duties, Ulysses,” Suka said. “Why do you even want this robot anyway? What is so important about an old Eyebot?” 

“What's _inside_ that machine – that's all that mattered. All the machines here, made of wreckage from the Divide…and all that was brought here. Inside its frame, it carries the message _you_ brought here…and it'll do what it was programmed to do." 

He paused, slowly and deliberately saying each word. _“Whatever it can to get home.”_

“It is a _robot,”_ Suka yelled. “It doesn't _have_ a home!” 

“That's…where you're wrong. Everything…every _one_ has a home. _You_ taught me that. I'll bring the Divide to _your_ home, _your_ nation. Let its flag burn, just like _you_ let the Divide burn.” 

The realization began to dawn on her. Ulysses was not just a personal threat – he was an existential danger to everything she had built. To New Vegas. To her new country. To _Veronica._ Her grip on her shotgun became so strong, she could practically feel her skin ripping and tearing itself apart to free itself of its constraints. 

“You are out of your _fucking_ mind! I will kill you, again, and again, and _again!”_

He ignored her. “Big Mountain access code…Ulysses. Command override. Navarro.” 

Before she could think of doing anything, the robot wavered in the air as Ulysses's transmission was cut off, and it began floating away from her. 

_“You fucking cowardly asshole!”_ Suka screamed after it. _“Everything of yours will burn! I'll light the fire myself!”_

Ignorant to her cries, her anger, the robot flew off, and with it, her last chance to speaking to Ulysses. Suka stared at it, her grip suddenly weakening as her shotgun fell to the ground. She fell to her knees, wanting to scream, punch something, _kill_ someone, but couldn't find an outlet to her rage. She yelled at Ulysses, demanded he show himself, provide a nice, big target. But not a word of it was in English – Russian was far more colorful, more useful, more _natural_ to justify and express her anger. Her rage burned as bright and red as the flares the Marked Men had been using, and she could feel her eyebrow twitching involuntarily. Suka punched the ground, just trying to do _something_ to let her anger out and refocus so she could move forward. 

How much fucking ammo did she have left? Three Kalashnikov magazines. About forty shotgun shells. Six pistol magazines, fully loaded. Her knife was as sharp as ever. Should she try to pick a useful weapon off the Marked Men? No, too much extra weight and another ammo problem she didn't need right now. She'd have to make do with what she had.

It had to be enough to kill him.


	7. If War Comes Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the land, in the sky and on the sea  
> Our melody is strong and severe  
> If war comes tomorrow, if the campaign starts tomorrow,  
> Be prepared for the campaign today

Suka picked herself off the ground, still seething with anger. _Oh, good,_ she thought as she saw flares rise up just ahead of her. _Someone to shoot._ She made her way across rickety sheets of metal, then down a set of wrecked stairs. Her path took her to an open area, perfect spot for an ambush. Would the Marked Men be here? She stepped onto a girder, where almost immediately the earth began to shake. Another damned earthquake. Her Geiger counter began going off as she stepped closer to the clearing. Not much better. 

Her instincts proved to be right. The second she left the source of the radiation, the Marked Men began firing. Suka fired back, destroying their little ambush with efficiency she hadn't felt in years. She couldn't bother trying to feel anything, think too hard. All she had to do was head through these ruined buildings, the hellish landscape of the Divide, surge her way to Ulysses and finally kill him. 

She stopped noticing what she was walking over. Broken ground. Decimated buildings. Makeshift, ramshackle walkways. Carved-out rock hideouts. All she knew was she was moving forward, kept killing, relentlessly slaughtered anything in her path. It was more than just anger at this point. It was personal. Ulysses had forced her to come here, accused her of crimes she didn't commit. Didn't he understand? Didn't he see what she had _done_ here? He was Legion, the bastard – he out of anyone else should have understood what it meant to do whatever it took to protect yourself.

Her anger drove her, to the point she was mostly unaware of the wounds she had sustained. She felt not the hurt, the cold of night, the heat of the day, the pangs of hunger, the scratchiness of her throat. The only thing she felt now was her anger, and the pure joy that crept across her face as she smiled, warm wet blood seeping onto her tongue. She smiled, and then laughed. 

She had done it.

Suka had found Ulysses's temple.

It had taken her a week straight of fighting, traveling, of climbing over the worst the Divide had thrown at her. She was battered, bruised, almost as hellish as the land around her. Suka had found this rat's hiding hole, his _home._ The only thing she regretted was not having enough ammo in her rifle. But, she still had a bayonet, and her pistol. That would be enough. She could see it now, savored the imagery of her driving the bayonet into his throat, slicing it open, watching the life drain from his eyes as his blood painted the floor. 

Suka staggered towards the metal door, pulling it open with a grin wider than she had ever worn before. The first step into his bunker, his home, she was confronted with control panels, artillery shells packed in open-air crates, and computer consoles, as well as the sound of a sentry bot. Was that blood in her eyes, or had the red tint always been there? She couldn't remember, and didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore other than killing Ulysses. She could hear it rolling around, scanning for hostile contacts. Well, her hostility was off the charts. 

The sentry bot unloaded 5mm rounds at her with a veritable hailstorm of bullets, and she replied in kind. Critical systems went first, crippling it as quickly as it had started firing. A grenade should take care of this. One explosion later, and it was dealt with. Was there pain? She wasn't aware of it anymore. She headed through a door, finding an elevator. This had to be it. This was the final showdown. 

Riding the elevator was short, and full of jarring stops. She arrived at the top of the shaft, where the doors slid open, revealing a wide open area full of metal walkways and railings. There, at the foot of a missile, stood Ulysses. She grinned, licking away blood from her teeth as she limped her way towards him. He stood silently, stoically, like a statue as she approached.

“Your city, Vegas, lies in the other direction…with the rest of its slaves. Or is it just, you, Suka, without the lights and ghosts. So, you came, to what – watch your homeland burn one last time. Kill me, perhaps. You are too late. The Divide is awakening – the package, and the message within, have come full circle. The sequence has begun, just as before. Except this time, the missiles will touch the sky instead of being locked beneath the ground.” 

She gripped her rifle tight, smirking. “You think a simple bomb can stop New Vegas? The Mojave could not stop me. The Divide could not stop me. _You_ will not stop me, Ulysses.” 

“More boasting. More weakness posing as strength. Pathetic. Your nation will burn, Suka. You will be cut off, with nothing to show for it. And slowly…your nation, your home… _you..._ will starve.” 

“Just like yours did, Ulysses?” Suka asked, tilting her head. “I have heard your words, listened to logs. You have lost your path, Legion bastard.” 

He paused, looked surprised for a split second. “So…you found them. But what do _my_ words mean to you?” 

“They mean _nothing,_ just like your stupid plan means nothing. You talk long about old places, old people, yes? Your tribe was destroyed, broken by Caesar, yes? You claim this place was destroyed because of me, but this place destroyed itself first, Ulysses.” 

He stared back at her, slowly blinking. “Who are you, who do not know your history? Your words speak to a memory, but it is corrupted, just as corrupted as the Marked Men here. The symbols here have had their time. Caesar wants them dead. The Republic aims to dig its claws into them. This is the only acceptable answer, when a symbol has proven itself to fail.”

“Who says it has failed?” Suka demanded. “You, or history?”

“Both. But what do you care of history. Even your own symbols of your Vault have died. Not even you can bring them back, Suka.”

“You know _nothing,"_ she spat back at him. “New Vegas will prosper under me. It already _has,_ and it will continue even after I kill you here.” 

He hummed, nodding solemnly as he withdrew a weapon. “Then I will finish history's work. If the Divide couldn't kill you…perhaps these spears of the Old World can.”

Suka grinned, raising her rifle up and squeezing the trigger. Before she could even watch the rounds hit him, he had ducked out of the way, striking her with a long pole with a golden eagle on top. She swung wildly with her bayonet, aiming to slice him, but found nothing in response. More trigger pulls, until her rifle began to click. _Empty._ She charged him, a familiar war cry emanating from her mouth. He parried her thrust, turned her weight against her and sent her Kalashnikov flying. 

Another strike on her back, and she was knocked to the floor. One more brutal blunt battering, and she began to cough up blood, her back aching and crunching. _Fuck._ This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't what she envisioned. Ulysses scoffed, standing tall over her like a champion returning from the ring. Considering he was Legion, maybe it wasn't too far off. 

She yelled in Russian, cursed her circumstances. She had vowed to _never again_ get to this position. What was the entire point of killing Major Gorchakov, if she could not show strength at her lowest? 

“I expected you to be stronger,” he said. “Should have been, after what you did here.”

“You don't know what they did here,” she muttered. Sharp pain shot into her lungs. Something was more broken than it should have been.

“I know what _you_ did. That's enough.” 

Suka winced, forcing herself to stand up even when her body cried out against her. Ulysses would not see Suka weak. He would never have the pleasure of standing over her broken body, like the VDV had. Not even when her body protested every single action, made her regret ever coming here. _Never again._

“They fed me _lies._ Told me to kill to suit themselves,” Suka said. “You think this was a tragedy? This was _mercy._ They branded me for their own purposes, used me. _Nobody will use me as their slave again.”_

“Do you think your life only began in that vault, and only ends in your own personal Tower of Babel?” he challenged. “You think this was mercy…no, it was a slaughter. A crime. Crimes demand punishment. Even now, you defy your judgment. Look at you – your body wants to accept it, but the mind is unwilling.”

She squinted, frowned, and then spat a glob of blood at him. Disgusted, he wiped it off his face. _Opportunity._ She leaped forward, unsheathing her knife and swinging it at his chest, aiming right for his heart. In her broken state, he easily blocked it, punching the knife away and sending it clattering across the floor. 

“You were right, when we first spoke in Hopeville,” he said, sweeping her off her feet again. “Killing you will change nothing. The Legion and NCR are waiting for your death, waiting for you to weaken so they can continue their fight for the Mojave.”

“Wrong,” she muttered. “Legion… _dead._ NCR…negotiated." 

“Can't negotiate with someone filled with revenge,” he said. _“You_ taught me that. Time to say goodbye…Suka.” 

He took out a weapon, his hand hovering over her head. Suka let out a staggered, hesitant breath, finally accepting her fate as she closed her eyes. A shot rang out. Ulysses cried out in pain, and her eyes shot open to see him on the ground, kneeling and in pain. She had rounds in her pistol. Slowly, and with pain clouding her every movement, she took out her pistol and aimed it at Ulysses. He looked up just in time to see the first bullet land in between his eyes.

Alarms blared as the rockets continued to count down. Whoever – whatever had fired the shot at Ulysses was gone. Suka crawled to the rocket control panel, saw the coordinates for New Vegas. No time to think. Redirect. Suka punched buttons, tried everything to make something change, until she realized there were other targets.

Like the Long Fifteen and Dry Wells.

She laughed, collapsing on the floor as the rockets went off.

* * *

She woke up with a panic, her breaths heavy and labored. She reached for a gun that wasn't there, uselessly patting the bed until her mind cleared enough to comprehend what she was seeing. Suka was back at the Lucky 38, in her familiar bed, staring at the same red walls and red carpets, topped with a white ceiling. The burgundy covers were heavy on her legs, and now that she knew where she was, Suka began patting herself down. Nothing was broken. Her holes and grazing hits had been patched up. 

Footsteps. She looked up, spotting Veronica on her way in. Suka watched her lovely smile cross her face as she quickened her pace, practically jumping on the bed with her. “Hey,” Veronica said. “You're up! You feeling alright?”

“Veronica darling, how did I get here? Did you go to the Divide against my orders?”

She shook her head. “No, I didn't go there.”

Something was wrong. Suka felt her eyebrow twitching, her head pounding as she tried to figure this out. “Then did Cassidy go?” 

“No, Cass didn't go either.”

“Raul, then,” Suka pleaded, hoping she was right.

“Suka, _no,_ none of us went there. None of us followed you,” Veronica said, cupping her hand on Suka's cheek and lightly moving her head to meet her eyes. “Someone brought you here. Said they had been asked to protect you. I…I thought you had done it, wanted to give them money, but they ran off before I could do anything.” 

Okay, she could figure this out. If this mysterious person had brought her to the Lucky 38, then they had to have passed by the Vegas gates. They had to have been spotted on her security. She could access Securitron memory banks from the past week, check on faces, scan for herself. It'd be easy. In theory.

“Suka, hey,” Veronica whispered, taking her other hand in hers. “It's okay. You did it. You don't have to fight anymore.”

She sighed, slowly closing her eyes and letting herself relax. Veronica was right. She had done it. She had eliminated the threats to New Vegas, even if it came at a great cost. She could finally focus on what mattered. 

Suka's world was back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you to everyone who has read this fic. This may not be the end of Suka's story, but it is the end of her march through the Divide.
> 
> As usual, special thanks to everyone on r/fanfiction who read over excerpts of my works and gave feedback on it to make it better. Thanks also go out to my friend Ejomatic for giving me a wonderful, terrible idea for the next part of Suka's story. As per usual, Dai, Paunchy, Plague, TinyOctopus, Coyote - all of you have been there while I stressed out over parts of this fic and gave me a pat on the head and held a bat to beat the hell out of brain weasels, and for that I thank you. Thanks also go out to anyone I may have missed while I wake up and remember how to be a human again.


End file.
